Room 215
by pikapikatchu
Summary: Greg needs to collect evidence from a rape victim when he is surprised by what else is waiting for him in that hospital room
1. Chapter 1

**Hey Guys!**

**I can't tell you enough how much it means to me that you enjoy my stories! :) Hope you'll like this one, too!**

**Big Love,**

**pikapikatchu**

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><p>Greg was called out his bed about an hour ago. He was on-call and, luckily, already quite rested, when Russell called and asked him to drive over to the hospital. A rape victim was there and needed to be processed. He needed to bring the evidence to the lab and, if the victim's up to, talk about what happened. The rest of the team was busy with a double-homicide, he had to take care of this case, so he made his way to the hospital.<p>

When he arrived, he walked up to the receptionist. Russell didn't even tell him which room the victim was in.

"Excuse me, I'm Greg Sanders, with the crime lab." He flashed his work ID. "I'm here for the rape victim..."

Before he could explain more, she said, "Sure. It's Room 215. Dr. Mansell wants to talk to you before you go in. He'll be here in a minute." She gave him a kind smile and asked him to take a seat in the waiting room.

After seven minutes, the Doctor arrived. They shook hands and he went on to explain everything. "Your boss asked us to take some samples while we waited for you." He handed Greg the evidence bags.

"Thanks. In what shape is she? Can I talk to her?"

"The victim's male, Mr. Sanders. I thought they told you?"

Greg looked a bit surprised. He could probably count the times he had a case with a male rape victim on one of his hands. It wasn't that men were that much less likely victims of such horrible crime, but they didn't come forward nearly as often as women did. "Sorry, I didn't know. I just assumed... How is he?"

"He's been beaten up pretty badly. He has some broken bones in his face... His left hand is broken as well. He's asleep right now, but you can wake him up when you need to take pictures and get other samples. He wasn't too cooperative with us, maybe you'll have more luck."

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><p>Greg walked up to room 215, preparing for the worst. He thought a female CSI would be better when he thought the victim was female, too. Now, he wasn't sure if it changed anything. Rape victims, whether female or male, usually didn't feel too comfortable talking to a male investigator when the rapist was male. He just hoped the victim would trust him enough. He opened the door as quietly as possible, hoping not to scare him. It was always hard to approach a victim in the hospital, but it was all that much harder with rape victims. He closed the door behind him, again trying to be as quiet as possible. He took a deep breath and turned around, walking up closer to the bed. A curtain was placed around it, trying to give the patient as much privacy as necessary, although he was the only patient in this four-bed room. He cleared his voice. "Mr. Torres...?" he asked very carefully. He tried to pull the curtain away with his right hand to take a look at the victim, when suddenly someone grabbed his wrist. He startled a bit but could feel the hand shaking. "Mr. Torres? I'm Greg Sanders... I'm with the crime lab and..."<p>

Greg was pushed against the wall, his wrist was forcefully pressed against it, his mouth was covered with another hand. A sweating, nervously and scared looking face was staring at him. "Shut up!" the man whispered. "Shut up or I'll kill you!"

Greg's survival instincts immediately kicked in and he tried to fight the perpetrator off. He almost managed to, but the attacker pushed him to the ground, still with one hand over Greg's mouth and the other around his wrist, twisting it forcefully.

"Don't!" the man whispered at Greg, punching him in the face and quickly putting his hand over Greg's mouth again. "Be quiet and you'll be alright, okay?"

Greg nodded his head rather violently.

The man let go of Greg's wrist, but kept his hand over his mouth. He pulled a gun out, causing Greg to try fight him off again.

"Easy!" the man whispered, placing the gun barrel on Greg's temple. "I'm gonna let go of your mouth and you won't scream, you got that?"

Greg nodded again.

"And then I'm gonna stand up... And you'll behave, alright? No tricks, and this'll all be over soon." The man stood up, with his gun pointed at Greg.

Just now, Greg noticed a lot of things about the man he didn't notice before. Not only was he sweating like crazy, he was also bleeding. Greg sat up a bit, with his back against the wall, panting exhausted. He touched his cheek, it was thumping, but not bleeding, due to the punch he received.

"Sorry 'bout that," the man said. He was exhausted from the struggle as well.

"...Is Mr. Torres alright?"

"The guy lying in the bed? Yeah, he's asleep, I guess." They kept whispering, hoping not to wake him up. "Stand up."

Greg did, with a wary look on his face. What did this guy want? He looked over to Mr. Torres. He was sleeping. But he noticed something else. Bloody bandages and other dressing material was lying on a table next to the bed. Doctors wouldn't leave this out there. The man walked over to the table, throwing a vial at Greg. He fetched it. "...Propofol ...A sedative?" he asked rather confused.

"Inject it."

"...What?"

"Inject it to him so that he won't wake up!" the man demanded.

"...How much?"

"Just give him, I don't know, half the bottle. Enough so he won't wake up."

"Half the bottle? That might kill him!" he replied worrisome.

"Or less!" the man said with a pain-stricken face, making it hard to keep his voice down. "Inject it or **I'll** inject the whole bottle!"

Greg figured it was better if he did it, using as little sedative as possible. He injected it with shaking hands, praying it would not be too much for this poor guy sleeping in that hospital bed.

The man, pointing his gun at Greg, sighed relieved. "Now come on, you need to help me."

"How?" Greg asked.

"I got shot... You need to get the bullet out..." He lifted his jacket to expose the wound.

"...I-I'm not a doctor, I can't..."

"It's not that hard, I almost did it myself. But the second I feel like you're trying to trick me, he's dead. Got that?"

Greg had panic in his eyes. He's never done anything like that before. He did the one or the other small medical procedure on a dead body, assisting Doc Robbins, but it wasn't the same. Plus, he seemed to have forgotten everything he knew about the human body in this moment.

The man sat down next to Mr. Torres, the rape victim, pointing his gun at him. "I already gave myself local anesthesia. Let's get to it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you guys for the Reviews, Story Alters and Fave Stories. Means SO much to me :)**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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><p>Russell walked into the DNA lab. "Robin, how far are you with Greg's case?"<p>

"What case?" she asked while looking through a microscope.

"Male rape victim."

She looked up. "I didn't get any samples regarding such case and I haven't seen Greg yet."

Russell raised an eyebrow. "Well, maybe he's managed to get the victim talking..." He dropped off some evidence he needed to be processed and left.

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><p>"Hurry up a bit."<p>

Greg rolled his eyes desperately. "It's not like I've ever done this before..." He felt more like poking around in the wound than actually trying to get the bullet out. There was too much blood, he didn't see anything. "Who shot you, anyway?"

"None of your goddamn business."

"I know, sorry. I just figured some small talk would make this awful situation a little bit less awful... I talk when I'm nervous."

After a few quiet minutes, the man said, "Actually one of yours did this."

Greg looked at him for a second, but kept poking around.

"What, don't wanna know why?"

Greg released a very small laugh. "Sure, but I didn't dare ask."

"I'm not a bad guy, alright? My friend's the bad guy here."

"Bruise on my face says you're not exactly a good guy, either, are you?"

The man gave him a look.

_Stupid nervousness, _Greg thought. Why'd he always have to talk before thinking what he's actually saying when he's nervous?

"I'm a good guy forced to team up with a bad guy... They shot both of us, we decided to go separate ways while hiding and meet up later."

"So what did you do? Rob a bank or something?"

The man laughed a bit. "No, nothing like that. We just wanted to get something from his ex-girl. Something that belonged him, but she wouldn't give it back. She called the police when she noticed we were inside and..."

"And your gun?"

"...Her new guy's a navy seal. We just wanted to protect ourselves." He looked at Greg and noticed a disbelieving look on his face. "You don't have to believe me, but it's the truth."

The sound of metal hitting metal. "...Got it... I got it!" Greg said rather joyful. "I can't believe I did it, I..."

"Good job. Now stitch me up."

Greg looked at him. "Listen, a gunshot wound is nothing to play with... You should really get this looked at by a doctor."

"Just stitch it up already!"

"I'm serious. This could get infected or I do something wrong. Trying to avoid getting arrested for breaking and entering is not worth dying."

"Bruise on your face says it is. Assaulting an officer won't help my case, don't you think?"

"...That?" Greg pointed on his cheek. "Please... First of all, I'm not a cop. Second, it's just a bruise. They don't even have to know how it happened."

The man raised an eyebrow. Was Greg trying to help him or trying to make him surrender to the police? "First of all, cop or not, you know that the cops don't shoot at criminals if the criminal's not carrying any kind of weapon... And I'm not gonna spend the next 15 years in jail. Second, if this little bruise isn't enough reason to go on and stitch up my wound, just say it!" he replied very aggressively.

Greg sighed and started preparing to sew up the wound. "I've seen this being done on superficial wounds, but a wound that deep... I'm not sure I can do that."

"You better can, or this guy's dead."

Greg looked over to Mr. Torres. He still appeared to be breathing, Greg really hoped he was okay.

The man looked over to him, too. "What happened to him, anyways?"

"It's an ongoing investigation, I'm not allowed to discuss it..."

"I think under the circumstances, everybody will understand you did, anyways." The man rolled his eyes.

Greg gave him a look. He just wanted to respect Mr. Torres' privacy. "He was beaten and raped..." he said without looking up. He just concentrated on the wound.

"No shit?"

He raised an eyebrow as he shook his head.

"Poor guy."

"Yep." Greg started stitching the wound up, hoping he'd do it right. "Will you let him go once your wound's stitched up...?" he asked carefully.

The man sighed. "I don't plan on harming either one of you. Which doesn't mean I won't if I have to, you understand?"

Greg nodded. "You won't have to." Another few quiet minutes followed. Then, Greg's cell phone rang. He got scared by it, dropping the tools he used for sewing the wound onto the metal tray.

"What the hell?" the man asked angrily.

"...My boss, just my boss calling. I was supposed to be back a while ago..."

"Yeah well he'll have to wait for you to call him back."

Greg picked up the tools and went on to try and stitch the wound up. The cell phone rang again. Both men startled.

"Jesus!" the man exclaimed. "Answer it, already. But no tricks! And put the speaker on."

Greg put off the bloody gloves he was wearing. He'd hoped the gunman would tell him to just ignore the calls. That way, Greg hoped, his colleagues would start to worry and come look for him. "Sanders," he answered the phone as naturally as possible.

"_How's it going?"_

"...Quite good."

"_He's talking? Great. When will you be back?"_

"I'm not sure, Russell. I'll call you when I'm done here, alright?"

"_You don't sound too good. You're sure everything's alright?"_

Greg sighed. "You know these cases can be emotionally straining... I'll be back soon."

"_Okay. Thanks, Greg."_ Russell hung up.

"What was he talking 'bout?" the man asked rather nosy.

"I came here to ask Mr. Torres what happened to him... Male rape victims often deny they were raped..." Greg put back on gloves and went back to trying to stitch the gunshot wound up. After half an hour he was done. "Alright... It's the best I could do... But you need real medical attention soon. I honestly don't know if I did this right."

"It'll do, I hope..." the man told Greg to clean up the blood. He did. He then demanded Greg to take off his sweater and he did this, as well. Greg was still wearing a shirt. The man pulled on Greg's sweater. "As good as new, right?" He grinned at Greg while trying to get rid of the sweat in his face. He grabbed the cloths, needles and what else Greg used to stitch him up and threw it into a trashcan. He picked up the bullet Greg got out of him. "Think I'll keep this as a memory, a lucky charm." He laughed.

"...What now?" Greg asked.

"I need to get out of here. Your car's parked outside?"

Greg nodded.

"Hand me your keys, you cellphone, your vest and your wallet."

Greg did. He was torn between feeling scared and relieved. He hoped this man would just take his car and leave, but he also feared it wouldn't be that easy.

"Get into that bed," the man demanded.

"...What?" Greg hesitated for a moment, but then sat down on one of the empty beds in the room.

The man walked over to a black bag and pulled out some handcuffs.

"What are you doing?" Greg asked scared, jumping off the bed.

The man pointed his gun at Greg. "Get back on the bed. I just need to make sure I'll be able to get out of here." He started to chain Greg on the bed with the handcuffs.

"Why were you carrying around cuffs...?" Greg asked.

"You know, I'm only telling you this because I know this stuff causes gaps in your memory." He held up the vial of Propofol. He grabbed some medical tools. "I dropped out of nursing school, so don't worry, I know what I'm doing here." He tried to inject the Propofol into Greg's system through an IV, but Greg was moving too much, trying to avoid being drugged by him. "...If you keep on fighting this there's other ways, but I'd hate to put a bullet through your head." Greg realized there was nothing he could do to prevent this, so he stopped fighting. "Atta boy. Anyways, what I wanted to say... Thanks for your cooperation, thanks for getting the bullet out of me. Even though you won't remember me saying this, I think it's only fair to let you know that I have been lying. I didn't help a friend to get something back. I broke into this woman's house because she's **my** ex and I wanted to kill her and her new hubby."

Greg didn't say anything, it didn't really come as a surprise, anyway, that this criminal had been lying to him. But it seemed to change everything. Would he really let Greg live?

"Sweet dreams," the man said grinning as he slowly injected the Propofol. Greg lost consciousness in a few seconds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all for our Reviews and all! I love reading them! It's already the last chapter, this one's a pretty short story. I hope you still liked it. And believe me, I have a great story up my sleeve! I'll publish the first chapter in the next few days!**

**Just something I'd like you to know: I chose Propofol because I know what it feels like to get it. (gastroscopy ;) ) I thought it was best to write from first hand experience :)**

**Now Enjoy the last chapter!**

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><p>Greg woke up half an hour after being drugged. He was slighty disorientated and still very dozy. He wante to just close his eyes and go back to sleep, but tried to force himself to stay awake. "M... Mr. Torres?" he said, hoping to get a response. Silence. He looked over to him, he was still sleeping. "Mr. Torres!" he said loud. Didn't help. For a few minutes, he just lay there, trying not to fall back asleep. Slowly, he was feeling more awake. Propofol was luckily one of the drugs that wore off pretty quickly. Just now he noticed he wasn't chained to the bed anymore. He slowly sat up. He could still feel the sedative's effects a bit, he felt a slightly dizzy. This didn't keep him from getting the stuff he used to take care of the gunman's wound out of the trash can and bagging it in a plastic bag. He slowly walked out of the room, went up to a nurse and told her to take a look at Mr. Torres, that he got the wrong medication and needed attention quickly. She hurried inside. Greg kept on walking. He intended to go down to the receptionist and ask her to use the phone, intending to call Russell. Not once did it come to mind to just tell someone to call the police. The sedative obviously clouded his jugement. He didn't come as far as the reception, though, because Sara came running up to him.<p>

"Greg!" she exclaimed as she hugged him. Russell and Nick followed her.

"Are you alright, man?" Nick asked concerned.

"I was just going to call you guys... How did you know I'm..."

"Should you really be up already? They told us you were hurt pretty badly," Russell said, reaching out his hand to support Greg.

"...Who? They know?"

They looked confused. "Know what? Greg, seriously, sit down. You could have a brain injury!"

Right now, Greg wasn't sure if this was actually happening or not. Despite some dizziness, the sedative has worn off, but his colleagues confused him. "What are you talking about?"

They looked him up and down. Despite a bruise on his cheek and some marks from the handcuffs on his wrists, he appeared to be fine. "They might've exaggerated a bit, but... We got a call from the hospital, saying you were in a car accident and in critical condition," Sara explained.

"What? I spent the whole time..." He looked at them when it dawned on him. He quickly turned around and walked towards the emergency room.

"Greg, wait! What's going on? Where did you get these marks on your wrists?" Nick ran after him, Sara and Russell, too. "And what's in that bag? Is that blood?"

He didn't reply until they finally arrived at the ER. They were standing in front of a Trauma room, watching the doctors trying to save somebody's life.

"Greg, tell us what's going on. You're scaring me," Sara said worried.

He sighed. "Russell, we need to put handcuffs on this man."

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><p>The gunman opened his eyes slowly. He took a look around and saw Greg sitting next to him.<p>

"How're you feeling?" Greg asked him.

"...What happened?"

"We never got the chance to introduce ourselves. What's your name?"

"Screw you. How did I get here?"

"Don't you remember? You wrecked my car, you probably lost consciousness because of the blood loss. You're lucky you're alive."

He laughed humorlessly. "Yeah... I'll go to prison for trying to help out a friend."

"No you won't."

The man looked hopeful at Greg. "...What?" he said with a smile.

"You'll go to prison for attempting to murder your ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend."

The smile quickly faded. "What are you talking about?"

"That's what you said, didn't you?" Greg had a serious look on his face.

"How do you know that?" The man tried to prop himself up, but couldn't. It hurt too much.

Greg laughed a bit. "You shouldn't have dropped out of nursing school. Propofol doesn't cause memory lapse. I remember everything you said."

The man's eyes widened in shock. "But..."

"There are sedatives similar to Propofol that do that, but you chose the wrong kind of drug."

"You can't tell anyone. Come on, I uncuffed you the minute you fell asleep."

"Did you do that for me or because you didn't want to leave your cuffs there?" Greg asked sarcastic. "I already told my colleagues. DA's already getting ready to put you on trial once you leave the hospital. Your wounds will heal, don't worry about it."

"I should've killed you when I had the chance," the man replied hateful.

"Then you still would've been caught and put on trial for my murder. Don't think that would've helped you in any way." Greg got off his seat. "Get well soon. See you in court." He walked out while the man was yelling nasty things at him.

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><p>Ende.<p> 


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